Did I say small apartment? Because I meant minuscule. But it's kind of like that "My Other Car is a Mercedes" bumper sticker. In this case, our "other" house is a 120-year-old, two-story with lots of rooms. It kind of took the pressure off the city apartment, which was nice. For one thing, we didn't need a place big enough to hold all of our stuff, which was pretty freeing. Our priorities were safety, convenience, and price. Did I mention price?

Bottom line: Holly and I will spend five days a week sharing a (small, even by studio apartment standards) studio apartment. Am I nervous that we'll get on each other’s nerves? Hell, yes. As soon as I saw the place, I said, "Well, we'll have to have sex at least three times a week or it will never work." Holly was like, "Okay?" My thinking: If we have enough sex, we'll be more forgiving of each other. I mean, I don't know what else we'll do; the place barely has enough room for a flat-screen TV.

We've been checking out other people doing the small thing well here; and this couple seems happy.

Have any of you shared a tiny space with your spouse and lived to tell?